


Memories of You

by rissalf



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Character Death, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-29
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-20 22:47:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 23
Words: 20,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1528532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rissalf/pseuds/rissalf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of shorts centered around Shepard and Thane's relationship, from ME2 to ME3.  Some fluff, some angst, possibly some NSFW later down the road.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Our Story

_Our story was never going to have a happy ending. From the very start we knew what the stakes were. He was dying, and I lived every single day of my life one breath away from death. He was the broken assassin desperate to wash away his sins. I was the frightened girl trying to make things better for everyone else._

_Maybe that’s what we recognized in each other. We saw the pieces and knew how to make them whole. The short time we had made no difference. In the end, we did everything we could with what we had, and both of us were the better for it._

_That’s not to say he was my entire life or I his. We had strength on our own, strength that still endures. But together we were better, stronger, damn near unstoppable. But all things good in this world end. Our story is no different._

_He used to tell me that drell remember everything with perfect clarity. At one time I envied that; no more. I remember his death with that flawless memory. The life suddenly leaving his eyes, his chest still, so still, as his last breath evaporates into the ether. There is no life there anymore. No soul. It's gone to the sea, where I cannot yet follow. There's a hole in my heart that will not mend, a piece missing that cannot be replaced._

_I will love him until I die, and God willing, I’ll see him soon._


	2. The Master Assassin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place immediately following Thane's recruitment mission. He and Shepard talk about why he's agreed to join her cause.

She stood in front of the windows and gave instructions to the turian and salarian, the last glimmers of daylight illuminating the red in her hair as the sun gradually gave up its throne to the night. This was the time of day Thane enjoyed most, when he could slip through crowds unseen with ease, become the shadow he’d molded himself to be. Something about the crowning of the night filled him with a steadying quiescence, yet this was the first time in years that he had really stopped to take notice.

At his suggestion, they split up. Thane and Shepard crept through the shadows in silence, retracing the path hastily carved through a sea of Eclipse mercenaries that hadn’t lived long enough to see the sun slip beneath the inky blue horizon. The turian, Garrus, had grumbled at the idea, but it was less likely for a pair to draw unwanted attention than a group. Shepard had agreed.  

Thane kept a steady pace just behind her. With much of the light gone, his vision was better suited to spotting any mercenaries that lingered. Judging by the trail of bodies, she’d been more than proficient in thinning their numbers, but there would be more. Experience told him there were always more.

That was how the world worked. The vicious and amoral always found the means to recruit others into their web of wickedness. He counted the bodies as they walked; did these men even know what it was they died for? No one would weep for a dead gang member — him least of all — but the waste of it all made him angry.

He glanced back toward Nassana's office and frowned. “When I am gone, they will remember nothing except that I was the master assassin.”

He wasn’t sure what made him say it or whether he even meant her to hear. The words seemed to have a will all their own. When he turned back, Shepard was watching.

“Is that why you wanted to join us?” she asked. Her tone held a certain degree of curiosity, but the delicate blush of her mouth whispered disapproval in the subtle frown that tugged at the corners.

“No.” She misunderstood. The unspoken disappointment nicked at him. It was atonement he sought in her mission, not absolution. There would be no wiping of the slate; nothing could blot out his sins now. “I accept what I have done. If that is my legacy, it is earned. But the chance to change that… To say it isn’t appealing would be a lie, but I assure you, my intentions are virtuous. I’m helping because it’s the right thing to do. As I told you before, I have a limited amount of time left to chase away some of the darkness.”

“It bothers you, though. On some level.”

“I...yes.” But she did not know the truth of it, did not know the source of his shame. That was a secret for him alone. “It’s a title I’ve more than earned, but not one that I wear with any sort of pride.”

“No one enjoys killing people, Thane. You were doing a job.”

But he did enjoy it once. Or something close to it. Thane fought against the memories, struggled to bury the screams of those he’d punished before they spilled out of his subconscious and onto his lips. He’d already said more than he meant. Shepard wouldn’t understand, and she didn’t need a recitation of all the ways he’d earned his moniker.

He motioned to the body of one of the mercenaries. “He was doing a job as well. I’m not certain I see much difference between us, yet I’m the one who’s been given a chance to atone.”

“Thane, I…” Shepard’s eyes darted away before returning to his with an almost startling resolve. “I don’t believe you’re a bad man.”

The way she said it, with such conviction, such unflinching faith, he almost believed it. He wanted to believe it. But she didn’t know the things he’d done, the way he’d failed them. She had seen him pray over Nassana’s body and wanted to believe there was more to him than murder and ruin. She was wrong. A killer was the only thing he’d ever be. The only thing he could be.

After all, it had once been important enough to let them slip away. His wife was lost because he’d made a choice, because the master assassin was too restless for menial work. He’d lost his son to unquiet rage that would not be assuaged until he avenged her. If the galaxy remembered him only for his sins, it was just.

A gleam in the distance pulled Thane from his rumination. Three targets, at least two heavily armed. On impulse he shoved Shepard down with his right hand and grabbed for his rifle with the left, ducking behind a planter for the barest hint of cover. The world slowed as he worked, the air still, the mercenaries across the promenade moving as if underwater. They hadn’t seen, not yet. He centered one in his scope and squeezed the trigger. By the time the first hit the floor, the second shot had found its target. The last of the mercenaries died without ever touching his weapon.

Thane put away the rifle and returned to his feet. It was all muscle memory, all as natural as drawing breath. But protecting Shepard had been something else. Not instinct, not natural, but an urge he hadn’t been able to ignore. Most of his impulses were geared toward the hunt; the urge to protect caught him entirely off guard.

Shepard was still crouched behind the planter, blaster in hand as she searched for a target that was no longer there. “You’re quick,” she remarked when it was clear that the threat was no more.

The admiration in her voice sent a flush of warmth to his face that he didn’t dare dwell on. “We shouldn’t linger here,” he warned as he offered her a hand. “This area is too open.”

But she didn’t move right away. Shepard stared at his outstretched hand for a moment before reluctantly allowing him to help her to her feet. A fleeting thought of what her skin might feel like beneath the armor danced across his mind, startling in its vividness. The warmth crept across his face again. He quickly withdrew his hand and pressed ahead. Where such a thought had come from… No. She’d looked at his hands and saw what everyone saw — death. There would be nothing for him beyond that.

And yet… As they continued on in the shadows, he adjusted his pace to match hers.

“Years of practice.”

“What?”

“Before, you said I was quick. I’ve had years of practice. My eyes are accustomed to finding targets in the dark.”

She laughed. “Well, I’m certainly glad for that. I’m still amazed at how fast you took them out. I barely had a chance to register what was happening when I hit the floor.”

Thane replayed the moment he shoved her out of the way and stopped abruptly. It never occurred to him that perhaps he’d been too rough in his attempt to protect her. After all, he rarely touched someone with less than lethal intent. His eyes searched her body for evidence of injury. There was nothing he could see, but it was possible that the armor had hidden something.

“Thane?”

Her voice, soft and soothing, like water caressing some distant shore, pulled him from his thoughts. “I apologize if I hurt you before. I’m not used to having someone with me during a fight. It was an impulse.”

She met his hasty confession with a grin. “You really don’t have to apologize. I’ve taken worse just about every other day. It’s part of the job. Besides, it’s a hell of a lot better than getting shot.”

“I’m pleased you see it that way. Some might be chagrined that I stole a kill or wounded their pride in some way. Your modesty does you credit.” He felt the corners of his mouth work their way up to mirror hers, another unfamiliar urge he was powerless to suppress. “I believe this will work well, Shepard.”


	3. A Reason to Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard asks Thane for a demonstration of his fighting style and comes away with feelings she didn’t expect to have.

“What can I do for you, Shepard?”

Thane motioned for her to take the seat across from him, surprise evident in his voice despite the fact that her visits had become something of a regular occurrence.

She made a point to check in on him often, to do her part to make him feel a little less lonely on the big ship. He had been quiet since coming aboard, keeping to himself in the life support room much of the time. It wasn’t that he was hellbent on the isolation — and in fact, he had been unfailingly polite to everyone he spoke to — it was more that the crew seemed to avoid him. A moniker like “The Assassin” wasn’t so easy to look past, he’d explained once.

They’d spoken a length about a few things — his illness, his work, the drell in general. But it was evident that there was more he held back. She looked forward to finding some way to get him to open up to her.

“I’d like to learn more about how you fight,” she said. “The hands-on approach you have intrigues me. Most assassins I’ve seen tend do their work from behind a sniper’s scope. You must be pretty confident to work the way you do.”

“Confident?” He shifted in his seat and clasped his hands in front of him. “Hm. I hadn’t considered that. Killing from a distance is sometimes necessary, but it is a cold way to conduct such a personal business. The end of a life warrants more than a passing bullet.”

“Even the ones who deserve what they’re getting?”

He nodded. “Like the prayers, it is as much for myself as the target. Taking someone’s life up close, with your own hands, leaves an indelible mark on the consciousness. Those remembrances make the difference between being a weapon and becoming a killer.”

“That’s an awfully fine line to walk.”

“Perhaps,” he said quietly. “But you didn’t come to talk about philosophy.”

Shepard smiled. “It’s not that I don’t enjoy it, but I wondered if you might be willing to give me some insight into your particular style of fighting. It’s different from what they teach you in military training.”

“I doubt you would gain much from fighting as I do. Your biotics are a powerful asset. And should those abilities fail, your aim does not.” He thought for a moment. “But I can teach you how to fend against someone like me.”

“Show me.”

 

Shepard stood in the center of the training room as Thane crept around her. She observed his eyes — glossy black, a hint of vibrant green barely visible in the center — watching, calculating, evaluating her weak points. She was average height, maybe an inch or two shorter than him. Slight build, excellent musculature. They were well-matched in that regard. But humans had myriad vulnerabilities — thin skin that could be easily torn, delicate bones that snapped with minimal pressure and hair that seemed designed for quick, brute domination. Shepard’s dark locks hung just above her shoulders; he could grab a handful and direct her as he wished, but it was a cheap blow unworthy of his skill.

Instead Thane slipped behind her, cupping her chin with one hand. The other he braced against the back of her skull. With one quick jerk he could snap her neck and drop her to the floor. It was important now not to let muscle memory take over.

“Don’t struggle,” he instructed. “When you struggle you let adrenaline cloud your senses, and you react out of fear. You must control your emotions. Make every move deliberate. It will feel like there is no time for calculation, but that is exactly what is required to survive.”

He let go of her head and twisted her arm behind her back, taking care not to actually inflict pain with the demonstration. With his free hand he immobilized her other arm, denying her the ability to slip out of his grasp.

“In this scenario, I have the upper hand. Can you move?”

“No.”

“Wrong. You only believe this because you’re accustomed to having your hands, but there are more tools at your disposal. Clear your mind. Reassess.”

She thought hard about what she was able to move, realizing that if she could slide her leg just so, she might be able to knock him off balance. It was messy putting theory into practice — she had to get a feel for how far apart his legs were so she wasn’t just kicking the air — but when her leg swept behind his, he fell as predicted, allowing her to roll out of his grasp.

“That’s good,” he said, returning to his feet. “Are you ready to spar?”

Shepard grinned. “Past ready. Let’s go.”

 

Fighting Thane was exhausting. He moved like flames, each flicker of movement a mesmerizing exercise in timing and control. Every time he appeared to slow, he was suddenly across the room again. Impressive for sure. Damn frustrating to try to keep up with.

Where he made one move, Shepard made three. She spent most of her energy trying to outpace his quick movements, a grave mistake that had her panting as he practically danced circles around her. On top of it all, the drell’s lithe body disguised a great deal of strength in his wiry muscles. Whenever she failed to elude him, it became harder and harder to break free.

“What do you fight for, Shepard?”

She barked out a laugh. “You want to wax philosophical now?”

“It’s important. What makes you fight so hard?”

Shepard dodged as he lunged at her, nimbly slipping through his grasp. “I fight for the people I lost. To honor them. To keep the bad things from happening to somebody else.”

“You lie to yourself.” He lunged into a roll and popped up behind her. He’d worn her down enough to go in for the kill, trapping her in a tight hold she could no longer escape. “Your eyes are tired, Shepard. Not just now. There is a disconnect in the way you fight. Your eyes will always betray your soul’s intent.”

Thane released his hold for only a second — from anyone else it would have seemed like taunting — just long enough to adjust to a better position. Meanwhile, Shepard panted against him, clothes damp and hair plastered to the back of her neck with sweat. She was tired — of his questions, of running around in circles, of feeling wrong somehow — and it was wearing on her. It shouldn’t have been such a one-sided fight. He was dying, and she was, well, freshly back from the dead. But he fought differently from anyone else she’d ever faced. He made it look so beautiful and effortless, a stark reversal from the slam-and-shoot foes Shepard was used to.

She relaxed against him and suddenly became hyper aware of his taut form pressed against her back. His body was warm from the exercise, breath cool against her neck. The pebbly skin rubbed against her chest, and she found herself wondering if the rest of him felt the same way.

“You’re distracted.”

Damn it. How could he tell? “I’m not,” she groused, then frowned because it sounded a hell of a lot like her eight-year-old self insisting that she wasn’t really tired and didn’t need to go to bed. “But what would give that away?”

“You’ve stopped struggling, but your heart is still racing.” He slid his fingers across her neck and felt for her thumping pulse. “Where is your mind, Shepard?”

Something in his question made a muscle quiver in the pit of her stomach. His voice caressed her ear, its gritty timber lingering, soothing. The change between them was subtle but jarring as the hold he had on her melted into something else. Something decidedly tender. Something she definitely wasn’t ready for, not so soon after Horizon.

No longer trapped, Shepard slipped out of his reach and grabbed a towel to wipe the sweat from her face. “I, uh, better call it quits for tonight. Probably a good idea to think on what you showed me. A lot to take in.”

“Shepard.” His eyes were unreadable. But then, she had made a point to try to avoid his gaze. If he’d felt the same stirrings, it was a mystery to her.

“I should go.” She paused at the door for only a moment. It was tempting to turn back and explain all of her hurts, the scars that hadn’t healed yet, the — what was it he had said? — disconnect she felt with this new, artificial life. But there was no easy place to start, and she was too tired to try. “We’ll talk later.”


	4. It's A Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard works through her feelings for Thane as well as what’s been bothering her for the past few months.

Shepard avoided Thane for the better part of a week. She’d only gone to him for a fight, but he’d given a lot more to think about, more than he probably realized. Their sparring lesson stirred uncomfortable questions — and equally confusing feelings — that she thought better to ignore than to actually deal with. But his words kept rolling around in her head, refusing to leave her in peace. Even in the solitude of her cabin, it was impossible to escape them. She remembered his question, could almost feel his breath warming the back of her neck as he whispered.

_What do you fight for, Shepard?_

Blood rushed to warm her cheeks. He’d so easily gotten under her skin that day. Was it the fact that he’d seen through her carefully crafted defenses or that a part of her had become attracted to the assassin? He seemed to be good at throwing her off balance, had been since the night they met. Cerberus’ dossier called him a master assassin; it said nothing of his spirituality. From the moment he bowed his head and prayed over the dead, he’d completely skewed her expectations. Since then, she’d found herself drawn to him, curious at first, something more of late, but until he’d held her she never expected any kind of reciprocation. It was jarring to consider pursuing something with Thane, especially with Horizon so fresh in her mind.

But she’d felt a stirring when he held her, as if the darkness suddenly parted, and she could see the stars breaking through. For the first time since her resurrection, she felt awake and alive. Snaking wires replaced her nerves, sparking from her fingers to her feet and banishing the anesthetizing numbness that had weighed on her. And when his arms surrendered their intent to trap, she had no desire to be anywhere else.

At least until it all became too much, and she slipped from his grasp. She’d run away because she was afraid of being alive again, of having a reason to keep going, a reason to care if the mission failed. It was the caring that tethered her to this life, and it was caring that made the gravity of their little suicide run that much more real.

Everything changes when you have something to lose.

*

“Come in, Shepard. I’ve been wondering how long you were planning to avoid me.”

She took the usual seat across from him and folded her arms across her chest. From anyone else, the barb would have stung, but Thane was one of maybe three people who could say something so blunt without even the barest hint of virulent intent.

“I’d deny that, but you’d just say I’m lying again.” She sighed. “And it would be a lie. I’ve been avoiding everyone, myself included.”

This seemed to grab his attention. He shifted in the chair and leaned forward just slightly. “Oh?”

“It seems I can avoid you, but not your questions.” Shepard picked at a stray thread on her sleeve, aware that his black eyes were fixed on her, waiting. “You may have had a point.”

His lips curled upward just slightly. “So you’ve been thinking about what I said?”

“I have. And I agree — to an extent — but my motivations aren’t wrong. Fighting for others is a noble thing, and it’s something I’m honored to do. That said, I think you’re right about there being a, uh, disconnect.”

“Mmm.” He nodded once, like a teacher watching his student work toward the correct answer. “If you’d like to talk, I’m happy to listen. It seems only fair after all the time you’ve spent listening to me.”

She sucked in a quiet breath to calm the nerves that refused to settle. It shouldn’t be so hard to talk about this, she thought. Part of the trouble was knowing where to begin.

“You know that I died, right?” He nodded.

“Ever since Cerberus brought me back, I’ve felt…off. From the outside, this organization always seemed shady, and working for them hasn’t done anything to change that assessment. I’m getting too few answers to a whole lot of questions, and I have to wonder just how much is being kept from me.” She shrugged. “But I’ve tried to keep myself busy and bury those feelings as best I can. I was doing a damn fine job of it until Horizon.”

She felt her mouth go dry as she recalled the memory. This was the part of the conversation she had been dreading. Talking about Kaidan usually required an unhealthy amount of alcohol. She eyed his half empty drink; unless Thane’s mug was full of bourbon, she was out of luck.

“What happened on Horizon, Shepard?”

She stared past him, avoiding his gaze. Every instinct said she was entirely too sober to have this conversation, but it was too late to back out now. “When the original Normandy broke apart and I died, I was separated from my — from Kaidan, the man I’d been involved with. When I went to Horizon, it was the first time we’d seen each other in two years, and the first time he got confirmation that I really was alive.”

“I take it something went wrong during your meeting.”

A bitter smile trembled on her lips. Something went wrong. When didn’t it? “It should have been great. And it was, for about a minute. Imagine two years of pent up emotion spilling out in one moment. But he pushed me away because of my affiliation with Cerberus. Said if I trusted them, he couldn’t trust me. It didn’t matter that we were working toward the same goal or that we had…history. He looked at me as though it would have been better if I’d still been dead. And between that and wondering what in the hell Cerberus did to me, well, I wondered if maybe he might be right.”

“Shepard—”

“No. It’s OK.” She quickly tucked her hair behind her ears and looked away again. It was utterly embarrassing to have him think of her as a suicide case, especially when the situation had never been that dire. She forced herself to look at him and offer a reassuring smile. “Crisis of faith, that’s all. But I think I’ve found my way again, or I’m starting to. I wanted to come down and thank you for that, for pushing me to take a long, hard look at myself.”

“You’re stronger than just about any person I’ve ever met. If someone makes you doubt that—” He stopped himself, but she could see anger flicker in his eyes before he quietly cleared his throat and regained his air of calm. “People look up to you for a reason, Shepard. It would be a shame for you to forget that.”

“Thank you, Thane. Really, I’m feeling a lot better these days,” she forced herself to look at him again, “and you played a big part in that.”

“I admit, when you stopped coming by, I was afraid I’d offended you. I’m glad to hear this wasn’t the case.” He locked his eyes on hers, and she felt her breath catch in her throat. “I enjoy these talks we have, Shepard. You know, you’re the first friend I’ve had in ten years.”

Ten years. Such a long time to be alone. The sentiment struck her as unbearably sad and strikingly familiar. By chance she glanced down at the table and nearly flinched; his hands hadn’t been so close before, she was certain of it. They were clasped in front of him, those enticing jade pebbles stretched taut over thin fingers, near enough now to feel their warmth.

“Shepard.” His voice was soft, and his eyes followed her gaze, resting on their outstretched hands. Her pulse pounded, and the room was suddenly much too hot. It was the training room all over, except this time there was no running away.

Without thinking, she bridged the negligible distance between them, letting his hands envelop hers in their soothing warmth, smiling up at him as she did. Neither said a word; there was no need for it. In the comfortable silence the stars pierced the haze and the darkness retreated.

It wasn’t love, not yet. But it was a start.


	5. Dreams and Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've taken some liberties with what I know of the drell and their perfect memory. Rather than dreaming as humans would, I like to imagine that their dreams are more heavily based on their memories.

He awoke in a panic, her name ripped from his throat in a strangled cry he couldn’t possibly contain.

The scene dissolved quickly, and his first lucid thought was that it wasn’t real. That was what human parents told their children when nightmares came, wasn’t it? He was safe in the bowels of the Normandy, the engine’s nearly inaudible hum replacing the lapping waves, dim overhead lights a substitute for the bright, cloud-covered sky. The seaside home on Kahje was nothing now but a recollection. The monsters that haunted his sleep weren’t real.

But that wasn’t the truth of it.

There was no comfort in the fact that it was a dream. It could never be only a dream. Not for him. Dream and memory were one and the same for drell — raw and vibrant, screaming with life. Sometimes pleasant, sometimes…

Difficult as it was, the recollection itself wasn’t what bothered him. That particular nightmare resurfaced every once and again to jab at wounds that hadn’t ever healed, to remind him of how he’d failed. But it never came so often, never with such urgency behind it. It felt, for lack of a better interpretation, like a warning.

Thane swept the blanket off his cot and sat, instead, at the table where he and Shepard had spoken just hours earlier. Eyes closed, head resting against clasped hands, he sank into his thoughts in search of a meaning. He could still taste her scent on the air, could nearly feel her hand in his. So often those were the only things that brought him comfort. But now, in the haze of faded nightmare, they twisted in his chest.

It was suddenly clear what such a memory could be warning him against.

 

* * *

“I am a dangerous man, Shepard.” Thane paused, eyes intent on the rim of his cup, unsure how he’d even gotten to this point in the conversation, yet certain that he had to keep going. Somehow. “Perhaps it would be better if you kept your distance.”

Shepard flinched as if the words had struck her. “Distance. I don’t- I thought...” Her voice withered with disappointment. “This is what you want?”

“Yes.” No hesitation. He had practiced it again and again in his head, fully aware that an unwavering response now was crucial. He didn’t dare look at her. “I hope you’ll understand.”

She stood slowly and smoothed the front of her dress. This was how it would end then. How it should end. It was one thing to have her mourn him someday in the future, entirely another to cradle her bloodied body in his arms and swear vengeance he’d never have time to dole out. This was how it had to end.

Except Shepard didn’t move once she was on her feet. “No,” she said simply.

“Shepard—”

“I don’t understand.” She returned to the chair and folded her arms across her chest. “Explain it to me.”

He couldn’t tell if she was angry or merely upset, but her eyes glistened as she waited for an explanation he couldn’t give her. “Shepard...”

She narrowed her gaze and set her jaw; it wasn’t a look he’d ever seen her wear. “If you’re my friend, as you’ve claimed to be, explain.”

“I’m sorry.” It was all that he could offer.

The scraping of metal on metal as she sprang from the seat and didn’t look back told him that wasn’t near good enough.

 

* * *

He owed her an explanation. No, it wasn’t that. This wasn’t about obligation or debts. He wanted to give her things. Anything she desired. Everything under the stars. But an explanation was all he could lay at her feet.

The only way he could make her see was to relive the memory.

_“Footsteps dark with blood as the door swings open. Glass shimmers in shards across the floor. Everything...broken._

_“I search the house. My heart pounds. Much too still. The house screams with quiet. Her body... So much blood. How long has she been gone? Cries of anguish assault the silence. I hardly recognize the sound of my own voice.”_

“Thane.”

His head snapped up, breath haggard from the memory, and a trickle of sweat rolled down his back. Everything was a jumble, a blur of then and now. “You shouldn’t… I…”

“Your wife. That was the day she died,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”

A broken “yes” was all he could manage.

“You’re shaking.” He flinched as her hands covered his. This was the comfort that sustained him, that he desired above all else. But it wasn’t right to take it from her. _I will not fail her as I did Irikah._

Thane pushed the last remnants of memory away and willed himself to explain. “The memory is as real now as it was then. I hadn’t recalled it in years, and now… This is the fifth time this week. I wake up trembling, sobbing her name before I can pull myself out of it. I failed her, Shepard. That is my great sin. That is my one regret. When I die, it will be this memory that haunts me.”

“This is why you wanted distance?”

“She paid for my sins with her life. They would never have come after her if not for me." The warmth of her touch fled as he pulled his hands away and folded them beneath the table. "I will not make the same mistake twice.”

_Because I care for you more than I should._ Those were the words left unspoken between them, the ones that hadn’t needed saying. Surely she understood that. Her frown said otherwise.

“You know, I’m pretty good at taking care of myself, Thane.”

“And I couldn’t… You don’t know the hell I went through last time, Shepard. I threw myself into my work. I took risks I shouldn’t have. I did things that marred my soul forever, things I still cannot muster remorse for. You cannot ask me to do that again.”

She reached for hands that weren’t there. That was Shepard, always looking to comfort, to calm, to connect. Her face softened. “What happened to your wife was terrible. And I understand why those memories would haunt you. But we face danger every day. Putting distance between us isn’t going to change that. I could die tomorrow — so could you. That’s _life_ , Thane. If you pull away every time you have these fears, you’ll never get close to anyone.”

“I care for you, Shepard.” No. That wasn’t enough. The simple words didn’t come close to capturing the depth of it. He finally met her scrutinizing eyes. “Do you have any idea what you mean to me?”

Even now, even in her anger and frustration, she blushed. “I know that we’re friends. Maybe something else, but...”

“In ten years, I’ve spoken to no one outside of my contacts. I woke alone. I slept alone. Memory consumed what time was left to me. You challenged all of that. Now I wake with your smile, I sleep with you in my thoughts. I’d forgotten what that was like. It seems my mind has decided to remind me of the risks that come with such attachment.”

“So the solution is to give up entirely? Go back to your solitude and wait to die alone?” That fire had returned to her face, so hot and bright he couldn’t tell whether she burned with anger or the passion of her argument. “Is peace of mind really worth sacrificing something that could be _something_?

“And what about me?” she asked softly. “I’m going to lose you no matter what happens. The closer we get, the more I know it’s going to hurt, but you know what? I’m going to risk it. I _want_ to risk it. Good things are worth the hurt, Thane. Please, just consider what I’ve said.”

Her words shook him, challenged everything he’d been so certain of a few minutes earlier. He thought of his wife, of the time they spent together before he grew restless. Each memory was precious, every smile irreplaceable. He wouldn’t part with a single one.

“Siha, wait.”

Thane reached for Shepard’s hand as she passed and heard himself speak the word before he even knew what he was saying. It wasn’t until she stopped and raised an eyebrow that realization set in.

“What was that? I think my translator must’ve glitched.”

Fierce in wrath. Tenacious protector. If anyone was the embodiment of one of Arashu’s angels, it was this woman. Heaven help anyone who challenged her, himself included.

“It’s...something better left for another time.”

“Does that mean you’ve changed your mind?”

Grudgingly. Cautiously. With the hope that it was the right thing after all.

He answered her smile with his own.


	6. A Reason to Fight, pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard continues to spar with Thane and learns a little more about his life.

“Why do _you_ fight?”

Shepard tossed off the question as Thane danced out of her grasp, expecting a simple, curt answer and an admonition to focus. She expected him to whirl past and grab her to demonstrate what would happen if she didn't. Instead he dropped out of the defensive stance at once, a shadow settling over him as he stilled. His gaze fell away, eyes fixed on the floor. He was quiet; she hadn’t anticipated that.

Would he give an answer? Had she somehow touched a nerve? There was a fleeting thought of taking him to the mat while he was distracted, but beating him that way seemed too much like a cheat. So while he contemplated the question, she grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat from her face. If nothing else the break would give her a much needed chance to rest and regroup.

“I fight because it's what I’m good at,” he said after a considerable pause. “Because I wasn’t made for anything else.” His voice was softer than usual, the words slow to come, careful, as though he were crossing a bridge that was a breath away from breaking. They’d spoken about his past before, but this was different. There was something raw here, something still too sore to touch. “There were times when I killed because I was obligated to do so. Most of my life was spent killing in the service of others. But it has not always been this way. When my wife died… Things changed after that.”

Shepard nodded. That made sense. “You wanted to avenge her.”

“I told myself that for a while. When I left Kolyat behind it was with a promise to hunt and kill everyone involved in Irikah’s murder.” Thane bowed his head and shut his eyes a moment before continuing. A prayer perhaps? Shepard wasn’t certain. “But I didn’t do it to avenge Irikah. Killing those responsible wasn’t going to make a difference to her. The woman who stood in front of my scope all those years ago wouldn’t have wanted that. It was all for me, to ease the guilt I felt for not being there, to give me a reason to keep going when I struggled to find one. When there was no one left to punish, I retreated into my stoicism. I believe you might call it ‘going through the motions.’”

Shepard frowned. “I don’t understand you, Thane. You say you had nothing, but what about your son?”

He looked up from the floor but stared through her rather than meet her eyes. “I believed I was...unworthy of Kolyat, so I made peace with letting him go. The only life I could offer him was tainted with death. It still is. He deserves better than that.”

“But even now, don’t you want to find him? You’re dy— He’d want to _know_ , Thane.”

“My wanting to see him is irrelevant. It would do him no good to see me fading and in pain. Jumping back into his life when mine is about to end would only hurt him. Pushing that on him, completely selfish.”

“Or you could let him decide.”

“No.”

Thane’s voice was quiet but firm, and Shepard knew he’d say nothing more on it. She tossed the towel aside and stretched. “So what about now? Are you still going through the motions?”

The shadows parted, and when he raised his head a softness had returned to his face. “You know the answer, siha.”

That word again. The way Thane smiled as he said it, as if in on a secret no one else knew, filled Shepard with intrigue. “Someday I’ll tell you what it means,” he’d told her the first time. But not yet. Not when their relationship was still so new, when their hands were the only pieces to touch and caress in increasingly intimate ways. It was the one bit of his life he’d held back from her.

“You still haven’t told me what a siha is,” she murmured.

In little more than a blink, Thane had slipped closer. He wrapped his left arm around her waist, and Shepard had to remind herself to breathe. It was hard to ignore the way he felt pressed against her, the way he held her there with his hand on the small of her back. What was he…? Was he doing this on purpose?

Thane was staring at her now, and the full intensity of his gaze left her cheeks blazing in response. That feeling was back, the little ball in the pit of her stomach made of equal parts fear and excitement, except this time Shepard didn’t want to wriggle out of his grasp. She wanted to be closer still — intimately close — and his hands... She couldn’t quite meet his gaze, not with those thoughts running rampant, but it was obvious that he was still watching, still studying with those big, thoughtful eyes. Was he finally going to tell her?

Thane slid his right hand around her wrist, almost snake-like in the way his grip subtly tightened, and before Shepard realized he was intentionally distracting her, she was no longer on her feet. The movement was quick and smooth — and surprisingly painless. She expected a jolt when she hit the mat, but Thane’s control was nothing less than impressive. He mitigated much of the impact — almost cradling her as they fell — his weight balanced just so to keep from crushing her, his hands firm in pinning hers overhead. She gave herself another reminder to breathe.

“Perhaps next time.” Thane leaned down and gently brushed the hair out of her face, and a rare grin graced his lips. “If you can pin me, siha.”


	7. No Playing Fair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard devises a distraction to try and beat Thane but finds that it's worked a little too well.

It had become increasingly apparent to Shepard that she couldn’t beat Thane outright. Playing by his rules left her at a serious disadvantage, and his lifetime of training and raw instinct were a gap she couldn’t bridge with strength alone. He was a master at utilizing every tool at his disposal — and creating new ones seemingly out of nothing. 

She remembered how he distracted her before, his lean figure pressed against her just so, arms soft as an embrace as he held her against him and broke her resolve. His breath on her neck did things to her, made her completely vulnerable to him — and he knew it. It wasn’t necessarily the speed or flexibility that gave him the edge but that he knew how to take advantage of an opening. Maybe, Shepard thought, it was time to create an opening of her own.

A blush crept across her face as she considered the idea. It would be nice to turn the tables on him for once, to see him as flustered as he made her. Shepard grinned. If he could play dirty, so could she.

* * *

“You’ve lost your focus, Siha.”

Thane dropped Shepard to the floor and pinned her hands overhead, just as he had nearly a dozen times before, and balanced himself over her so that their figures didn’t quite touch. The gap between them — close enough to feel the heat from each other’s bodies but too damn far for any real gratification — was maddening. “I’m beginning to think you’re not trying on purpose.”

“Oh?” She wondered what would happen if that gap were to close. “What gives you that idea?”

She kept her tone innocent as she rocked her hips beneath him. Just once, just a small shift, just enough to graze his body with hers. Any less and he’d miss the subtle suggestion altogether; anything more and he’d see it as the trap it was meant to be.

It was enough. His eyes flickered with surprise and then desire, and it was obvious that the rest of his body had responded in kind. She felt him tense, heard an unfamiliar sort of hum rumble softly from his throat.

As his grip on her wrists eased into something more tender, Shepard weaved her fingers through his. He slowly allowed himself to bend over her and brought his face to rest mere centimeters from hers. They were close enough now to share breath, and it was apparent that things had become much more intimate than either of them anticipated.

“Thane, I…”

His breath warmed her lips, lingering there like a kiss from some fading dream. And yet, and yet it all still felt like a dream. She knew with just a little stretch she could find solace in his lips, a comfort she’d missed and one she’d craved for months now. God, to feel his mouth pressed against hers. Against her neck, against her chest, against… The flames of a blush spread like wildfire across her face. The distraction had worked a little too well. If she didn’t wake up, she’d lose her chance. Kissing Thane was a dream that had to wait for another day.

Just as he closed his eyes and sought to claim her lips as his prize, she wrapped her legs around him and threw her body hard to the right. Had he been much heavier, it might not have worked, but Shepard’s decisive movement provided just enough leverage to roll her into the dominant position.

She admired her handiwork from above, drawn clearly across his face in a mixture of surprise and pride. Keeping the boastful glee from her voice turned out to be an impossible task. “Who’s lost their focus now?” she smirked.

“You don’t fight fair,” he protested as she released his arms from her grasp, but it was clear from the smug grin on his face that he found nothing about the position disagreeable.

“I was merely putting what you taught me into practice.”

“I taught you that? I’m certain I would have remembered.”

“Not this exactly. But I realized that the key to fighting the way you do isn’t really about speed or movement or stamina so much as knowing your surroundings and your opponent and using that knowledge against them. Just like you did all those times you distracted me with, well, you.” Shepard grinned down at him, entirely satisfied with what she’d accomplished. Well, almost satisfied. A not-so small part of her regretted going for the win instead of giving in to the kiss. The only thing that eased the regret was knowing he still had a promise to keep. “So, let’s talk about our deal. I believe you were going to explain what a siha is.”

He smiled up at her and took her hand, lithe fingers grazing the skin with overwhelming affection. “Of course. But if you have no objections, there’s something I need to take care of first.”

She shrugged. “Yeah? What’s that?”

One tug and she was inches from his lips. A second later, he’d replicated the move she had used on him, but this time she felt the full weight of him as he straddled her. But instead of keeping her immobile, he used his hands to brush the damp auburn hair out of her face and trace the subtle contours of her cheekbones.

His breath, so calm and measured, mingled with her shaky exhale. He rested his forehead against hers, and Shepard’s pulse thrummed beneath her skin. They’d been here before, balancing on the brink of something more, but this was different. This wasn’t about gaining the upper hand or coming out on top. This was real.

She wanted him to take her into his arms, to kiss her as if this were the last chance he’d ever have, as if both their lives depended on it, but he stayed tantalizingly out of reach, content at the moment to simply fix her under an admiring gaze. It was exasperating to have him that close — teasing and taunting with an unnatural amount of patience — and exhilarating not to know what the next few seconds might hold. She was his entirely, and with a touch he could satisfy the ache he’d built to a dizzying zenith.

Just when it seemed that he was in no hurry to give her the satisfaction she needed, he kissed her. Softly, slowly at first, then with an almost startling urgency. When his tongue parted her lips, insistent and impatient in its work, that unflinching discipline began to crack. His hands groped with need and lust long denied, the chaste nature of their relationship flung to the side with a wanton flourish. She heard the deep, quiet hum from his throat again, something not so different from a human’s enraptured moan, and heard herself quietly gasp his name.

He pulled her off the mat and into his arms, and for a few blissful seconds she forgot about Horizon and the Collectors and the impending suicide mission completely. Nothing but his lips pressed against hers mattered beneath the fluorescent lights of the training room, and nothing short of death would tear this memory away from them.

It was too soon when Thane pulled away, like starting awake from a dream. Shepard rested her head against his chest and smiled at his staccato heartbeat thumping in her ears. Not so calm and controlled after all. There was something reassuring in that.

She tilted her head to look up into his eyes but instead found them closed, and a contented grin had settled on his lips. “Thane?”

“Mmm.”

“You still have to follow through on our deal,” she whispered.

He chuckled softly at her tenacity, the breath a little ragged against her face. “Tonight, Siha. That’s a promise. First, I believe I need one of those cold showers you humans always speak of.”

Shepard laughed as he held her. That, she thought, makes two of us.


	8. Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard and Thane’s relationship takes a new turn the night before the assault on the Collector Base.

“Thane.” Shepard placed a hand over his clenched fist and he softened. How was it that the brush of her fingertips could quell the despair that threatened to swallow him? Yet she’d proven adept at doing just that time and again, and with little more than a look. He felt her close, nearer than she’d ever been to him before. And still too damn far away.

“Be alive with me tonight,” she whispered.

That was it. The invitation he didn’t dare hope for. The cue he wouldn’t dare miss. Thane hadn’t come to her cabin for anything beyond conversation to soothe his worries, but without hesitation he turned and pressed her body against his. One fluid movement, slow and graceful. Gentle, but there was no mistaking the urgency. He held her gaze for a moment before bringing his mouth down to hers. Her lips were gentle, warm. This was how it felt to meet the sea. Fear fled in her presence, and peace washed over him. His warrior-angel holding the broken pieces of his soul in her hands.

She led him down the steps and toward the bed, but he sensed hesitation in her resolve.

“If you’re uncertain…”

“No,” she assured him. But Shepard was quiet. “I just— Is this OK with your condition? If it would be too stressful…”

He met her concern with a low chuckle. “If I can dodge gunfire with you every other day, I can do this. _This_ I’m looking forward to.” Thane ran a finger along her cheek and felt her skin warm. “I assure you, you won’t break me.”

A coy smile pulled at her lips, and she playfully tugged him closer. “Where were we?”

He needed no reminder. She was in his arms again before the question left her lips, and his met her flesh without delay. Creamy skin melted under his touch. He’d never laid his hands on a human like this, with touch meant to incite pleasure instead of bring pain and death. Now he was near enough to smell the sweet scent of her hair and run his fingers through the coppery strands. It, too, softer than he’d imagined.

He marveled at this contradiction of a woman, so utterly vulnerable beneath the premise of unflinching determination. Fragile, yes, but never weak. Able to walk through hell simply because she willed it.

“I love you, Siha,” he murmured, unthinking.

Her dark eyes widened and locked onto his. He’d caught her off guard with the declaration, but he had no intention of backpedaling from it. How could anyone look at that woman and come to a different realization? No, he’d only spoken truth. He’d never take that back.

“I love you, too.”

That response was not what he expected. There was nothing to do in return except choke away tears that welled in his knowing black eyes. The lonely assassin — long asleep and unworthy — had found redemption in this woman. He still felt unworthy, but not for the same reasons as before.

It was Shepard’s turn to catch his mouth with hers. She kissed him with a newfound strength, her tongue raking over his, her lips not quite as soft now. He slipped the strap of her black dress off her shoulder, pulling away from her lips to nuzzle along her collarbone and up her neck. That smooth skin reacted with each breath that danced across it, little pinpricks shivering down her spine. A curious reaction he’d remember to ask about later. For now he moved behind her and slid the rest of the dress off. He was rewarded with even more delicate skin, and more little bumps as his hands caressed her curves.

Shepard let a sigh escape — perfectly normal, she assured him — and tossed her head back so he could press his lips to her throat. Then she turned to face him, and the black coat he wore fell to the floor. Her hands lingered; his blood heated.

If they met the sea tomorrow it wouldn’t matter. Hell could wait. Tonight they were alive.


	9. Afterglow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard reflects on her night with Thane and looks ahead to a dangerous mission as the Normandy travels beyond the Omega-4 Relay.

Shepard awoke to Thane murmuring beside her. She lie still, eyes closed, just listening as he recited the prayers she’d come to know almost by heart over the past few months. Ones that she silently said with him, though he never knew. She recognized the words offered to Arashu; he’d spoken them before each mission, hands clasped and head bowed in humble offering. Now the drell assassin sat of the edge of her bed and recited them while she slept. The image reminded Shepard of her sisters’ bedtime prayers from years ago. Though words and deity differed, the sentiment was the same.

There was something about the way he spoke that made her hold her breath, as if any kind of movement might interfere with the sacrament. His voice shook as he uttered the words, with a conviction rarely witnessed even in him. This was no routine recitation. It was a plea, with everything he had, for protection.

As he finished the invocation and retreated into contemplative silence, Shepard couldn’t help but watch him and smile. She wondered if he was thinking of their night together, if it made his insides ache with remembered longing the way hers did. If he’d cherish the memory, as she would, until Death came to steal his final breath.

The night had been worth every bit of their courtship’s patient crescendo. She’d wanted him long before then — and maybe he’d felt the same — but the circumstances were never right. Some fear or doubt always offered a reason not to try, and the ghosts from their pasts loomed invisible and ever-present. She had Kaidan; he had Irikah.

But if any doubts lingered when Thane came to confide in Shepard, they dissipated the moment his lips met hers. The first time had been an exercise in indulgence. It was love as therapy, as a desperate offering to whatever god might take notice and grant them even one more day with each other. The experience had been as spiritual as their talks, his hands steadfast and his kisses zealous.

The second time had been wholly different. Groping hands tempted with every light touch, and the brush of fingertips built into an ache that was impossible to deny. The professor’s warning about the effects of prolonged physical contact between their differing physiologies had been summarily ignored in favor of Thane’s body on top of hers. Memory and phantasmagoria fused, becoming a euphoric hum that enveloped her entire body. Recollection of one particularly inspired use of his tongue birthed an uncharacteristic giggle that roused Thane from his meditation.

“Siha, I didn’t realize I’d woken you.” He turned back to fix his tired black eyes on her, and Shepard guessed he had been awake much longer than she thought. “I couldn’t sleep after we… This was too important to wait.”

“You didn’t wake me,” she yawned. “I should have been up half an hour ago.”

“Oh?” He rejoined her beneath the sheets, and Shepard caught the beginnings of a smirk on the corner of his lips. She nestled against the drell’s lithe frame and closed her eyes as he stroked the smooth skin below her rib cage. “What kept you?”

“New memories.”

His voice, whisper-soft and laced with lascivious intent, rasped in her ear. “Good memories?”

“The best.”

She allowed herself to stay in the comfort of his embrace a while longer, but her mind was elsewhere, already fighting the day’s battles and already worrying over who might not be coming back with them when the it was done. Maybe she’d be the one they mourned. Certainly that was a better fate than losing even one of them. There’d been more than enough of that in the past. No more.

The horrors of Mindoir and everything she lost haunted her still, and Akuze felt as fresh as it had seven years earlier. She’d moved past crying over the dead long ago, but the unbidden memories were still potent enough to make Shepard shudder.

Thane squeezed her tighter before she suddenly pulled away to fix him in her determined gaze. They wouldn’t die today. They wouldn’t, because she’d already decided it. That would have to be enough.  “We’re going to make it, Thane. Do you trust me?”

“Your certainty gives me hope I didn’t think possible.” He reached out to cup her face with his hand before lightly brushing his lips against hers. When they separated, his eyes set about studying her face, as if memorizing every detail. “I want you to know that I meant what I said last night. It wasn’t just something to say in the moment. I do love you.”

“I never doubted. And I hope you know that I meant it, too.”

“That is—” He faltered, humbled, and his gaze fell away before a sheepish smile took root. “I’m still trying to get used to hearing you say that. After so many years, I thought those words lost to me. But now to hear them again — and from your lips. Have I really atoned enough to deserve this?”

Her answer was a smile and a teasing kiss that lingered in the memory long after they grudgingly parted and prepared to face the dawn. One more mission, and all would be well.


	10. Better Than Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Differences are explored, and the Normandy's painfully slow elevator is finally good for something.

Thane took advantage of the Normandy’s empty elevator and nipped at Shepard’s earlobe, one of those odd human sensitivities he’d chanced upon that seemed to do interesting things to the woman. Beyond producing what she’d termed “goosebumps,” the act provoked those deep, satisfied sighs and made arch her back in a way he found terribly alluring.

Actually, humans seemed to have no shortage of sensitive areas, and discovering Shepard’s had become something of a mission for him. There were the obvious spots, of course, but he found it most fascinating when an offhand brush of his fingers made her tremble unexpectedly. Her neck, her earlobes, even the thin skin inside her elbows seemed to respond to the right kind of touch.

The knees were another good find, and Thane remembered quite fondly the way she responded when he laid his hand there and let it slide slowly up her thigh.

_A gasp escapes her throat. She smiles. Lips purse and eyes crackle with excitement as she looks up at me. “You’re such a tease.”_

_Fingers rake across satin skin. “I have no intention of merely teasing, Siha.”_

Shepard’s throaty laugh brought him out of the memory. “I guess I know what we’re doing tonight.”

She flinched as his hand slammed against the elevator’s halt button, his rasping voice barely more than a whisper in her ear. “Tonight? I don’t think I can wait that long.”


	11. Tease

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Decidedly NSFW. Thane decides to see just how long he can tease Shepard. More porn than plot, but I needed a change of pace from the sad stuff.

Shepard laughed beneath him, eyes closed, hair splayed across the pillow in fiery disarray. Even relaxed she radiated energy, but her smile wore away most of the battle-hardened edges. They had somehow stumbled on the topic of favorite body parts, and his answer was apparently not what she’d expected.

“You like my neck?”

“Mmmm.” Thane grazed the thin flesh with his teeth  — just enough to illicit a gasp — then felt her tremble as his exhaled breath warmed the spot. He didn’t understand why she found his predilection so amusing. “You like it too,” he murmured in her ear.

“Well when you do—”

She groaned an affirmation as his lips pressed the skin just below her jaw. The flush of her heated blood was nearly as irresistible as the pounding of her pulse. He smiled and slid a finger over the vein when he pulled himself away.

This was what did him in time and again, made him hard with desire so strong it tested his focus. He could steal a touch anytime — fingers brushing her thigh beneath the tables in the mess, hands lighting and vanishing in the span of a breath — and see evidence of her arousal in the telltale thumping just beneath vulnerable skin.

And she had the audacity to wonder why. Maybe it was time he showed her.

Thane moved his mouth down her throat, lips whispering a benediction in the kisses he trailed down her neck. The touch was feather-light, but enough to set her off. She arched her breasts toward him, the demand wordless but clear.

He ignored it outright; the lesson he aimed to teach had only just begun.

She moved her hands lower in a frustrated attempt to supply the pleasure he purposefully withheld, and in response he pushed them aside and offered little more than a smirk for her trouble. Not yet. Not until she quivered beneath him, not until his name was the only word her lips could utter.

But she refused to relent so easily. As he bent over her and trailed his tongue from the top of her breast to the base of her neck, she took the opportunity to slip her hand around his cock. Long, agile fingers pressed the flesh, lazily caressed each sensitive ridge. It was as though her hands were everywhere at once, the fingers teasing just so to make him rigid in her hands. As if he needed help in that regard. He'd been hard from the moment they'd begun; if she kept it up much longer… He pulled her hands away.

“Not quite yet,” he rasped.

“Dammit, Thane, you’ve made your point. I’m sufficiently turned on.”

Her frustration was more amusing than he’d imagined. It wasn’t often that Shepard didn’t immediately get what she wanted. He grinned. “Your sentences are much too coherent for me to believe that.”

“I _need_ you.” she breathed.

But he pretended he hadn’t heard.

Her pouting confirmed what he’d always suspected, that she liked being ordered around, liked having the unshakeable authority that she used to armor herself supplanted just a bit. She was just too damn stubborn to admit it. Rather than give in, she writhed beneath him in a futile attempt to break his resolve. He had to admit, it was tempting to abandon the lesson and fuck her right then, but he steeled himself with the idea that it would be worth the wait — for both of them.

Instead he slid forward, knees planted on either side of her so that she couldn’t possibly tempt him with her hips or employ deft hands to sway him. But it wasn't a position he could hold for long. Her soft breasts brushed against his cock, the engorged head just inches from her waiting mouth. He remembered what she could do with those lips, imagined her tongue running languidly up the shaft and twirling mercilessly around the tip as he begged for release. He could feel her warm saliva coat every inch of him as she took him in her mouth and began to suck him off. He wanted it, he wanted her.

It took Shepard's frustrated grunt to snap him out of the memory and pull him back from the brink. “Krios, if you don’t— _oh_!”

He relented.

That name, on her lips. It was too much to bear. The way she said it — the tone sharp and commanding, uttered in exasperation born of hedonistic want and a defiant refusal to be denied any longer — ignited his body as much as any touch could. While Thane enjoyed the exercise in control, a bigger part of him couldn’t help but submit when she snapped back.

Thane repositioned himself and slid into her slowly, the act of penetration a tease in itself as he savored the sensation of her body taking in every swollen ridge until he’d filled her entirely. No matter how many times they entwined, he never tired of being enveloped by her, of feeling the heat of her body become his as she sighed beneath him. The control it took to keep from spilling into her too soon required nothing short of a master’s concentration.

She moaned as he rubbed her clit with his thumb and began to move inside her. But instead of thrusting away as he’d initially planned, Thane was almost methodical in the way he eased in and out of her. No need to rush, no need to do anything but commit the act to memory. The way she wrapped her legs around his waist and ran her fingers along the edges of his frill. Her heat, her scent, her breathless cries as she clung to his body.

When they shuddered in release, he ran his thumb over her cheek and softly kissed her, then felt her lips curl into a smile.

“I love you,” she whispered.

“Always,” Thane agreed, content to spend every last night of his life demonstrating just how much.


	12. Some Nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thane and Shepard share a steamy night together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Chapter contains explicit sexual content. NSFW

Most nights weren’t like this. Most nights they played within the carefully drawn boundaries their situation demanded. Touch gentle, pace slow and steady, kisses sparingly doled out to keep the haunting aberrations to a minimum.

But some nights were different. Some nights they were acutely aware that their time together was finite. The day was coming when he would no longer be able to sweep her in his arms, when every stolen breath would have to be carefully guarded. The day was coming when memory would have to sustain them both. On those nights, Thane — hunter, predator, shadow — took control, and for a few short hours they played a very different game.

Hallucination hit just as Thane left Shepard’s lips to inch lower and lower down her body. The venom in his skin worked quickly on her faculties, heat flooding her already flushed skin, light and color swirling in a disorienting blur. While the kiss left her mouth slightly numb, she could feel the poison crawling through her veins, igniting the nerves so that every touch was electrifying. Coherent thought loomed just out of reach; sensory overload had drowned out everything but her lover. 

Allowing that kind of vulnerability went against every instinct she had, but there was something about Thane’s touch that soothed any uncertainties. Trust was at the core of it, but the thought was fleeting as he made his torturous descent, stopping only to pull off her satin underwear and rake a finger achingly close to the juncture of her thighs. She could hear his voice murmur, more a hum than words, the low rasp its own kind of sex to her disoriented mind.

“Ah!” Or maybe it was what he’d suddenly started doing between her legs that had her light-headed. The heat of his tongue swept over delicate flesh, tracing tiny circles over her most sensitive area. She wiggled beneath him, eager to set off the charge building inside, but he laid an outstretched palm on her stomach to still her.

“Patience,” he whispered.

Easy for him to say, she thought. He wasn’t the one… “Ohhh.”

A breathy moan escaped her lips before she could think to stifle it. Thank God Cerberus thought to soundproof damn near every inch of the ship. The last thing she needed was— 

A sudden flicker of light seared through the darkness. His hands crackled with biotic power, carefully controlled so as not to inflict any real pain, and he let the curling tendrils of vibrant blue energy linger over her body before deftly sliding a fused digit inside of her.

“Thane,” she gasped. She’d read about using biotics during sex but had never thought to try it. The stories didn’t come close to accurately describing the experience. Between the charge and the drell venom, her entire body felt like it was buzzing. He slid his slick fingers in and out slowly, careful to keep her under tight control, as if he had all the time in the world to spend making sure her ecstasy didn’t spill over until he allowed it.

The smooth bumps along his fingers provided the perfect amount of friction, and he continued the rhythmical motion with one hand while his other found its way to her breasts. The peaks were hard pebbles aching beneath his gentle touch. She arched her back toward him, trying to tempt him into something a tiny bit rougher. As if reading her mind he descended on one of the hardened nipples, and she cried out when he nipped at the swollen bud.

“I can’t take it much longer. Please.” This had to be working him up, too. Yet to watch him work, every move deliberate and methodical, he was the picture of self control. 

“Tell me what you want, Siha.”

She felt embarrassed asking; he knew exactly what she was after. His fingers lit with brilliant blue energy once more, daring her to say it. “I want you inside of me. Please.”

His voice, sandpaper and satin, was little more than a growl in her ear. “I’ve been inside of you, but that’s not what you really want. Try again.”

She watched the energy bend in his palm for a moment, then disappear from view as he rubbed his charged fingers over the slick, swollen nub between her legs. Such an infuriating tease.

“Fuck me,” she moaned. Uncharacteristic words for a wholly uncharacteristic evening. Rarely did such crude terms pass her lips, but there was no use in being modest now. 

She repeated them over and over until Thane’s lips pulled up in a satisfied smirk and he shifted his weight on top of her. One push and she'd have what she wanted, but he wasn’t ready to give in yet. Instead he pinned her arms above her head and bent down to deliver one more venomous kiss to make her head swim. When he pulled away she was a moaning, writhing mess beneath him, and that was exactly what he’d been aiming for.

He shifted once more, pushing the full length of himself into her, at once abandoning the quest of torturous restraint. He moved with a singular focus in mind, one hand tangled in her dark hair, the other keeping her hands immobile. She came in what felt like seconds, quivering beneath him as he quickened his pace. 

Now the facade of calm was slipping; she watched in amusement as he teetered on the edge, panting, shaking, those long fingers losing their biting grip on her wrist. One last push and he cried out, his obsidian eyes glistening as he studied her face, no doubt cementing a memory for some lonely night to come. When his arms gave out she drew him close, letting him rest his head on her chest while they waited for his breathing to ease once more. When his ragged breaths finally quieted, Shepard finally let herself relax.

On nights like this they didn’t speak afterward. No words felt appropriate, and no idle chatter would make them forget that their time together was running out. It was better to leave the heavy thoughts unsaid, to let their bodies tremble with unspeakable emotion. Eventually sleep would come, but until it did they held each other in silence, both lost in thoughts of what the future might bring.


	13. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard and Thane prepare to part ways.

“Siha.”

This would be their final night together. If Thane had his way, he’d spend every last night of his life with her. Seldom, he noted with some bitterness, had life let him have his way. In the morning they would part, perhaps for good, until the time when she would meet the sea in some blaze of heroic glory. His warrior-angel, his Siha, the brightest star in an endless obsidian sky. His only friend. It was her destiny to burn so bright, and his to fade away.

She’d brought him back to life all those months ago, made him feel like he was more than just a weapon, more than a means to someone else’s end. Made him believe it when she said he was a good man. She’d even helped him get his son back, a task he once considered all but impossible. No longer disconnected, his soul felt alive and vibrant, and Shepard was the nexus of all of it. There was nothing she touched that didn’t come out better for it.

When he’d come to her cabin as the ship hurtled toward the Omega-4 Relay and certain death, he had been broken still. The cool acceptance of his fate was just a facade, one that was crumbling fast. But she’d healed him with a touch and given him something to fight for when her body pressed against his and “I love you” rolled off her tongue. He would fight for her until he no longer drew breath, and give his life to protect hers if it ever came to that.

Thane knocked again and waited. When Shepard still didn’t answer, he punched in the door’s lock code and went in anyway. She was sitting at her desk, head in her hands. He’d never seen her like this, so utterly defeated. Muffled sobs shook her entire body, and he rushed to return the comfort she’d given him so many months earlier.

“Thane,” she sniffled, quickly trying to wipe all trace of tears from her face,“I didn’t hear you knock.”

He knelt in front of her and kissed a tear from her cheek. “Talk to me.”

She shook her head and dropped her gaze. There was no need to talk about it. He knew what was bothering her. That this would be the end for them. He’d be lying to say it hadn’t bothered him as well. For drell, memory was instant, vivid, almost as good as the real thing. For humans this was not the case, and some small part of him feared becoming a faded recollection, a fragment of memory lost to the unkind ravages of time and replaced by the comfort of someone else’s arms.

“What are you afraid of?” Though the answer was clear, he made himself ask to get rid of the unpleasant thoughts.

“No,” she rasped. “Not now. I can’t talk about it now. Can we just—”

He took her hands, rubbing small circles over her skin as he bent down to kiss them. “Anything you wish.” 

“I just want to lie next to you.”

He held her for hours, listened to the breaths that came — some ragged with tears, others soft and peaceful — and wished for a way to make time slow. For ten years he watched as the seconds seemed to drip by, each hour tedious and painful. But now… time was slipping away. No, not just slipping,  rushing .

“Siha,” he whispered as he brushed the hair out of her face. “Em. Talk to me.”

She sat up, a curtain of dark hair falling over her face. “You asked me earlier what I’m afraid of. I spent half the day trying to justify talking you into staying. And then the other half I felt guilty for even considering it. I know it’s best for you to go. Hell, it was my idea. But I didn’t expect it to be so hard to get to the end. Knowing this is our last night together, fearing the day when I get a call saying that you’re…”

Tears again that he wasn’t meant to see, choking away the words she couldn’t bear to say. She hid her face, wiping at her eyes in a futile attempt to stifle another round of sobbing. 

“I’m going to have to wake up tomorrow and say goodbye to you, and I just...I can’t.”

“Don’t think of it as the end. Do you remember the opera we attended on Illium?”

A smile broke through the tears at last. “We got there late and I thought we’d missed everything, but it turned out to be the intermission.”

“That’s what this is, Shepard. It’s only an interlude.” He kissed her again and pulled her close to him. "We will see each other again. I promise."  



	14. Long-distance Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard struggles with recording a final message for Thane. Takes place between ME2 and 3.

“I don’t know if you’re getting my letters or if…”

Shepard squeezed her eyes shut, then stopped the video recorder. Why was this so damn hard? Talking to Thane had never been difficult. God knows they spent hours down in Life Support doing nothing but talking for months. They shared it all — demons, dreams, anxieties — nothing had been off limits. But now each message had become increasingly difficult to get through. It was torture not to hear anything in return, and Shepard was left to wonder whether it was Alliance meddling that kept Thane’s reply from her or something worse.

It was the something worse that Shepard refused to acknowledge, but she couldn’t deny that it was getting harder to do so. Thane’s health was never far from her thoughts. Amid untold hours of questioning and committee hearings, her mind wandered with thoughts of whether he was OK. Was he with Kolyat? Was he in pain? Every video had danced around the issue, ignored the fact that she might be recording these messages for a dead man.

The inconsequential small talk about weather and food had long since run out. Maybe it was time to face the truth of their situation. The doctors had only given him a few months. If Thane was still alive, he wouldn’t be much longer. This would be her last message. Better make it count.

Shepard let out a long, slow exhale, then started the video recorder again. It was easier when she imagined sitting across from him on the Normandy, hands entwined over the table, fingers caressing almost imperceptibly. “I miss you, Thane. I miss being held by you. Talking to you. The sound of your voice. The way you used to whisper in my ear to wake me up in the morning. I miss that faraway look you get sometimes when you think I’m not watching, and...”

The smile she’d worn faded as she thought of how this message — like all the others — would likely never reach him. Her fingers curled inward so hard the nails dug into flesh, but pain barely registered.  “And the longer they keep me here, the more it feels like we’re never going to find our way back to each other. Jesus, I don’t even know if you’re getting these or if you’re already gone. I—”

_Don’t be angry now. This isn’t what either of you need._ The fist refused to completely unclench, but the pain in her hands started to ease as she took a gulp of air and forced herself to slowly exhale again.

“I’m not ready for it to be over. I’ll never be ready.” Emotion reduced her voice to a low tremble but she pressed on, determined to say what she needed him to hear. “When I died and came back, I couldn’t imagine that life would ever feel the same as it had before. It was as if all the color had drained from the world. Everything I touched, everything I saw — it didn’t feel real. _I_ didn't feel real. But you came along, and we were so much alike. Both of us lost and hurting, but wanting to get better. You helped put me back together as much as Cerberus ever did. I could have gone on without you, but life would have been gray and empty. You gave it color and fullness and _life_. I just...I wanted to say that before the end, in case our intermission lasts a little longer than we planned. I love you, Thane. Always.”

Shepard sank onto the end of the bed and stared out the window toward the darkening horizon. Thane was still out there somewhere, and with any luck this would be the message that made it through. All that was left to do now was wait.


	15. Out of Reach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thane recalls a memory from happier times.

Thane slid his arm around her, allowed his hand to rest on the small of her back, fingers gentle but ready to attend to whatever her body demanded of him. It always demanded. And he was always eager to obey.

“Dance with me,” Shepard breathed.

That wasn’t the request he expected. “I...don’t think I’ve ever done that, Siha.”

She grinned and took his free hand. “It’s easy. We’re practically doing it already.”

Shepard faced him and drew near, allowing his other hand to remain at her back. Then gently they began to sway, bodies moving with one purpose. There was no music; there was no need. The melody was in her heartbeat, in the rhythm of her chest as she drew breath. It swelled with the smile that she offered and swept him away from every care that troubled him. For a moment, he wasn’t dying. For a moment, they had eternity.

“Thane?”

“Siha.”

“Have you ever considered what we might do, if…”

_If we really had forever?_ More than she knew. More than he liked to admit. It kept him awake at night, these thoughts, gnawed at him with every breath suddenly cut short. Days they’d never have, memories they’d never make. He drew her closer until she rested her head on his shoulder. “Yes,” he whispered.

He wanted to tell her about the things he’d dreamed for them — trips to their homeworlds and making a new start with his son. Perhaps finding a home somewhere the way people did. But those things were painfully out of reach. The ache that came with dwelling on them would only hurt her.

“Shepard?”

“Hmm?”

“Why do you ask?”

Her swaying stopped, the music lost as she frowned up at him. The crease between her eyebrows deepened as she searched for the right words. “I wondered… I- God, this is harder than I thought it would be.”

“Siha.” Thane led her to the sofa and pulled her beside him. “What has you so troubled?”

“I’m not. It’s…” She closed her eyes and sighed, then shook her head before starting again. “I wondered if you ever considered remarrying.”

“Oh.” Another subject he hadn’t expected. “I, Shepard—”

“I wasn’t asking, don’t worry,” she demured. But she turned away, suddenly overcome by an urge to watch the fish glide by in the aquarium.

“I never gave much thought to remarriage,” he admitted. “After Irikah’s death, well, you know my history. You know that love and companionship were the furthest things from my mind. For a long time, I didn’t feel I deserved that kind of consideration, even after you had expressed the interest. Even now, I have days…”

Thane gently turned her face back to him, relieved that her expression bore no trace of disappointment. “But to answer the question you weren’t asking, yes, I would marry you.”

She blinked at him, as if she hadn’t quite heard correctly. “You...what?”

“I would marry you tomorrow if you wanted. Why wouldn’t I? Our lives are already bound together. You will bear witness to my last moments, watch me steal those final breaths. There are few things more intimate than that. Whatever time I have left, you know it’s yours. Any of it, all of it. Just say the words.”

“Thane Krios, I…” Her smile returned in earnest. “Just being together like this is enough. Honestly. I don’t think we could get much closer.”

And yet at that moment, he found that entirely untrue. Thane pulled her onto his lap and let his hands linger at her waist, ready as ever to satisfy her demands.

***

_A thousand mornings we’ll never have burn in the warmth of her smile. She takes my hand, brings each finger to her mouth. One kiss. Another. She pulls me from the sofa and into waiting arms. Just like the first time, we are alive. We are alive, and—_

“Father?”

The soft voice didn’t belong there. Thane felt the world shift, felt the air being sucked away as Shepard and the Normandy were replaced with hot sand and blinding sunlight. It was only when Kolyat’s face came into view that he realized he’d slipped into a memory again.

His son had been patient with the outbursts, but Thane knew such intimate recitations of time spent with a woman Kolyat barely knew couldn’t be easy to hear. He could do nothing but apologize, though they both knew it would happen again. The sickness siphoned away more of his life daily, and Shepard was now among the things just out of his reach.

Memories were all that he had left.


	16. Always Waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thane and Kaidan await a certain visitor at Huerta Memorial.

The drell in the black leather coat stood at one of the floor to ceiling windows overlooking the Presidium, hands clasped behind his back as if he were expecting someone. Sometimes he’d tire and sit in a nearby chair, but he’d always be looking to the horizon, watching, waiting, ever so patient. Every day without fail, that’s where the nurses would find him. When he was first admitted, they begged him to return to his room; now they knew better.

“Mind if I join you?” The dark-haired man didn’t wait for an answer. He eased himself into the chair next to Thane and stuck out his hand. “Major Kaidan Alenko, Alliance military.”

Recognition flickered in the drell’s eyes. He suppressed the memory, instead offering the man a terse handshake. “The human biotic. I remember when you were brought in. There were whispers about your odds of survival, none of them good. You must be a fighter.”

The major’s grin was sheepish, almost shy. “I couldn’t die yet, not on her watch.”

Her. Thane didn’t need to ask. He knew just who the man was, remembered seeing his picture on her desk. There was no doubt as to who it was he was waiting for. Thane wondered when they’d let her out, wondered if it would be possible to get through to her now. If she would still come.

“A woman?” he made himself ask. He kept his tone genial, but inside his mind raced with questions.

“I’m hoping she’ll stop by. There’s a lot I need to talk to her about. A lot to apologize for now that I’ve got a second chance to do it. Hell, another second chance.” He followed Thane’s gaze out the window. “You ever meet someone and just know they’re the one you’re meant to be with? You see them grow right in front of you and do the most remarkable things, and you think, ‘yeah, she’s the one.’”

Thane looked back at the man for only a moment before his eyes danced away. “Yes.”

“You’re waiting for someone too,” Kaidan remarked. “I’ve watched you stand there, day after day, and I figure there’s gotta be someone you’re hoping to see. Who is she?”

The memory tumbled out, unbidden, as instinctual as breathing.  

_"Dark hair, brown and red intertwined. Dusky sunset shimmering in the strands. She looks up at me, her eyes wet with unshed tears. So much pain inside. But something else as well. Cheeks redden as our fingers brush together. My heart pounds. She smells of flowers and citrus, unfamiliar and intoxicating. I can hear the sea."_

And just like that, the memory dissolved, leaving Thane back in the hospital sitting next to a man who had no idea that they were waiting for the same woman.

“My apologies,” he murmured in explanation. “Drell memory.”

The major started to respond, but Thane had already stood to excuse himself, bowing slightly at the waist as he made his exit. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to get some air.”


	17. Stolen Moments

Thane swept the auburn hair from Shepard’s face and tilted her chin towards him. She looked lovely this way, eyes half closed and lips parted slightly in expectation of a kiss. If he could, he’d have held her there in a state of perpetual anticipation. This was how he liked to remember her; it seemed there were too few moments like this, and the ones they had were much too short.

Even now, it was ending. It was always endings with them. Never a moment to rest, never time to breathe. She had a few scant hours to spare between meetings on the Citadel, and he was bound to the hospital for the rest of his days. A less patient man might have given up on them long ago, concluded that they were destined to be nothing more than two ships passing in the night. But Thane had built a life on being patient.

And if there was ever a woman worth waiting for, it was Shepard. He’d wait an eternity to share even a few seconds with her if it meant that she was his. It never ceased to astound him that she apparently felt the same.

“I thought of you often while we were apart. The memories were so easy to get lost in.”

She smiled up at him then wrinkled her nose as some new thought occurred to her. “I’d imagine Kolyat wasn’t too fond of that.”

“He was angry in the beginning. Hearing about time I shared with you was difficult for him. I admit, there were memories I’d rather not have shared with him. But he saw how I changed, saw your role in it, and he’s accepted your place in my life. My memories no longer bring him pain.”

Shepard slipped her arm through his and rested her head on his shoulder. “I missed you so much. I kept hoping that you hadn’t—”

Emotion choked her voice, and he turned to cradle her against his chest. “I couldn’t die before seeing you again. Heaven knows better than to keep you from getting what you want. I’ve seen you will greater things than my living into existence.”

He kissed her hair — it was a shade darker now than the last time he’d seen her — and breathed her in deep. She made a happy muffled sound against his chest. 

“Damn the Reapers and everything else, just let me die here,” she murmured.

“You’re not dying now, Siha.” He tilted her chin up, just as he had before, this time wiping her cheek before kissing her gently on the forehead. “Even when I’m gone, you have to keep going, keep fighting. Promise me you won’t forget to fight.”

She looked up him and stared into his dark, dark eyes in a way that made his stomach twist in knots. Her end was the only one he couldn’t bear to think of, but from her expression it was clear that she had no expectation of outliving the mission. “I’ll fight until it kills me, Thane. And then I’ll meet you across the sea.”


	18. Meet the Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thane's death, told from his POV.

For every prayer he said for himself, he’d said two for her. It had always been that way, from the moment she sat across from him and smiled, and he’d named her Siha. Long before he’d ever used the term in her presence, before their hands met in chaste longing, before they’d held each other in the dark.

He needed her now. Time, as it always had been for them, was running out. Breathing was a chore, but he was determined to stay as long as possible, to see her face once more, to speak her name. He needed to offer one last prayer, one more plea on her behalf.

Daylight was fading. It wouldn’t be much longer. The melody of the sea was in his ears, that lulling roar desperate to pull him toward his final rest. He searched for the right memory of her, one that would ease his transition from life to death, and pulled the breathing mask from his face.

“Thane.”

Her voice was mercy and life, sunlight glinting off rolling waves. Was it real, or was death being especially kind in granting his wish? He chanced the effort to open his eyes and had his answer. No illusion could do her justice; now that she was there, even memory fell short.

Her hand melted against his cheek, that soft touch soothing as always. Her deep, dark eyes glistened with unshed tears, and the twilit sky framed her in an almost ethereal light. A vision of heaven come to see him off.

She murmured her goodbye in his ear, low and sweet, soft enough so only he could hear.  He thought they’d already said every poignant thing they would say to each other; he was wrong. Her words held solace and devotion, the tenderness of a lover’s touch, and the promise of days to come, waiting for them both on some distant shore.

“Such pleasant things from your lips, Siha.” Maybe it really was all a dream. Perhaps the end had come without his realizing it. The racking cough said otherwise. For once he welcomed the grim reminder of reality. He gasped for air, his head swimming in memories, each a tempting fragment jockeying to force him from the world. It took every effort to push the pleasant visions away.

“There is something I must do before it gets worse. I must—” He drew in a shallow breath, fought to remember the words. One more mission with the promise of death at its end. “Kalahira, mistress of inscrutable depths, I ask forgiveness. Kalahira, whose waves wear down stone and sand—”

Breathing failed him. A cough rattled his body and sent pain radiating through his chest, but he refused to let go. Not until the prayers were done. Not a moment sooner.

Kolyat’s voice, solemn, humble, bit through the room’s gnawing chill, and picked up the verse where he’d left off. The words came naturally from his lips, this gentle son who would have turned killer, now set on a new path with hope for a better life. It was another measure of undeserved peace, one small reason to believe that he’d contributed something good to the world after all.

“Kolyat, you speak as the priests do. You have been spending time with them.”

Delirium filled Thane’s head as his son turned to Shepard and pulled out a small, worn book. Kolyat had asked her something, but the voices were muffled against the bark of another jarring cough. He sucked in one more grudging breath; he felt it now, that this would be his last.

And then she whispered those familiar words, unaware that they were meant for her all along, her voice a bell tolling his end, the sound a bittersweet relief to his ears.

“Kalahira, this one’s heart is pure…”

Her words fell into the sea, the waves washing them from the shore, carrying them further and further away until the roar of the ocean was all that was left. And when they were gone, the tide came for his soul, water gently pulling him forward, sucking the earth from beneath his feet. He felt her soft lips brush against his once more and felt Kolyat’s hand squeeze his. It was more than he dared imagine during all those lonely years — not one beloved by his side, but two.

He was gone from them now, drifting toward the distant shore, the current washing away the years of pain and loneliness and regret. When he emerged from the sea, life’s sting had faded, but the memory of their touch remained. Upon his soul it would stay, a reminder and a promise that they would return someday. Until then, he would wait.


	19. Never Lose Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard deals with the immediate aftermath of Thane's death.

“We’re heading to the same place, Thane. I’ve got a little further to go before I get there, but make no mistake.” Shepard bent down and kissed him lightly on his parted lips. “You won’t be alone for long.”

She held back the tears until his chest stilled and the life in his eyes went out. Once he was gone, she left as quickly as she could, not bothering to wait for the doctors to come back around. They couldn’t tell her anything she didn’t know; she could already feel the absence of his soul.

 

As she sped through the lobby, someone tried to get her attention, but her gait never faltered in her push to the elevator. Breaking down in public wasn’t an option; the great, heroic Shepard couldn’t be reduced to tears. It was too important for everyone else that she be strong. Only the solitude of the Normandy could shelter her now. 

So she fled to her cabin and sat with her back against the locked door. There she sobbed until her eyes hurt and her head ached. Until, at last, exhaustion took a bow and sleep settled in.

She dreamt of him. It was so real, as real as the little boy on earth. As real as Ash telling her to leave her behind and save Kaidan. As real as Mordin humming somewhere in the dark. Thane was with the rest of them now. The ones she couldn’t save. The ones that haunted her sleep. She never saw his face, but his voice called to her.

_“Siha.”_

Shepard started awake and wiped at her eyes.

“Commander Shepard. Commander?”

There was a long pause as Shepard worked to register Sam’s voice on the intercom. For all she knew, Traynor would be another ghostly reminder of her failures soon. Maybe they all would.

“Commander?”

“Yeah.” She swung her legs over the side of the bed and squeezed her eyes shut. “Can it wait?  I’m in the middle of something.”

“Of course, commander. Should I hold your calls today?”

Shepard struggled to keep her voice even and clear, damn near impossible when it felt like she’d swallowed a box of nails and sandpaper. “Please. Until further notice.”

“Absolutely. Also, you have a new message at your private terminal.”

“Thanks.”

She had no intention of checking the messages. For one day, things needed to be anything but business as usual. If that was selfish, she didn’t care. Everyone else always got first priority. Hell, she’d left Thane bleeding on the Citadel to make sure the damn Council was safe. The Council — the very self-absorbed group that refused to believe a word she’d ever told them. The things she could have said if she’d stayed with Thane instead weighed on her.

 _No._ That sort of thinking was futile. And he wouldn’t have wanted it that way. He was the one who’d urged her to go, the one who put his life on the line to defend someone else. She had to go. Had to make sure his sacrifice wasn’t in vain.

Shepard forced herself to stand and plod up the steps to feed the fish and check on Lenny. She sat at her desk for a while and watched the furry hamster wiggle his nose at the glass and run on his little wheel, oblivious to all the galaxy’s troubles.

Meanwhile, the terminal continued to blink, the little light impossible to ignore. Eventually she conceded, but only to read the messages. Answers would have to wait. She opened the terminal and immediately closed it.

She hadn’t read it correctly. Of that much, she was certain. The stress had worn on her, made her see things. But once her heart stopped pounding, she reopened the terminal once more and pulled up the impossible message.

_Subject: Never lose hope_

It was from Thane, written God only knew when but obviously meant to find its way to her upon his death. She read the words slowly, carefully, cherishing each one as if they might disappear once she was through.

_I love you. If all else whispers back into the tide, know this for fact._

She felt the lump rise in her throat.

_I will await you across the sea._

The sobs that escaped her lips were rough and loud, and her body shook with each one. She hugged her arms to her chest and gasped for breath. God, how could he be gone? She wanted to feel his arms around her again, his lips against hers. To feel the pebbly skin as their fingers intertwined. She wanted to hear his voice in the dark, that satin rasp that could soothe as well as excite. Suddenly she had too few memories to comfort her, and the most vivid were the ones she prayed to forget.  

At some point during the evening, Shepard wandered down to the Life Support room on the lower deck, where she stayed for two days. Under her orders, no one was allowed to enter for anything less than the ship crashing. She slept slumped over the table in the chair where she used to sit across from him and talk. Thane’s cup had somehow been left untouched during the retrofit. She cradled it, smelled it, watched it as if somehow it could make him appear across from her again. Memory failed her. What was it they’d discussed that first night they talked until dawn? What was it she’d said to make him laugh for the first time? Thane could have recited the entire conversation with perfect clarity, right down to her nervous fidgeting. She cursed her inferior human memories, recollections that didn’t do justice to what he’d been and what they’d had. She prayed, to her God and to his, for some way to make it hurt less.

And she read the message, over and over, until tears blurred her vision and she could no longer read them. Even then, the words were ingrained in her mind, offering what little strength they could. _Never lose hope._ Easier said than done when she felt so disconnected. Yes. That was the word he had used once, a state of distress the drell experienced when they were hurt and unwhole. That was how she felt now, like her soul had already left and went to search for him, leaving her body to fight on as long as it could.

The hum of the engines just outside the room eventually lulled her to sleep, and upon waking, she sighed beneath the warmth of a blanket that had been draped across her shoulders. Someone had come in and disobeyed her orders sometime during the night. She frantically looked for Thane’s mug before discovering that she held the smooth glass in her hands, like a child clutching a favorite toy to ward off bad dreams.

When she returned to her quarters, the mug went with her. She placed it beside his picture, a little reminder if her resolve faltered. And falter it would, she had no doubt. Everyone expected the great Commander Shepard to be some unshakeable rock instead of the very human woman she was. _Even rocks can crumble,_ she murmured to herself.

But she would go on. It was her duty to everyone who was still left, all those who had — for good or ill — put their faith in her. But when it was all over, she clung to the determined hope that she would meet him on some distant shore.


	20. Something in Common

Shepard couldn’t sleep. Again. One night wouldn’t have been troublesome, but the insomnia was quickly becoming a habit. Sleeping alone shouldn’t have bothered her, not when she’d done so for the better part of a year. Not when Thane’s absence had become so familiar. But now that he was gone — really gone — that emptiness felt real for the first time. And worse still, permanent. Never again would she wake to his arms curled around her or feel his breath warm the back of her neck. How many times had she turned over and roused him with a kiss? How many mornings had they grudgingly rolled out of bed late because of it?

Not nearly enough, she thought.

Now the place beside her was empty, and empty it would stay. Empty and quiet. But it was in the silence that the ghosts of those she failed somehow seemed to find their voices. They never blamed her, but that didn’t matter much. They were still gone, the wounds still fresh. And as long as Shepard was alone, there was no drowning them out.

Instead of restless tossing and turning, she took to roaming the corridors of the Normandy. Few crew members would be up so late, but it wasn’t about finding company. It was about being away, about moving, about occupying her mind with anything to quiet the whispers.

She made her way down to the shuttle bay to see if James was still up. Maybe he’d be willing to spar. The exercise certainly wouldn’t hurt, especially after that post-midnight snack she’d indulged. But save for one dim light near the Kodiak, the shuttle bay was dark. Shepard nearly turned back to find someplace else to haunt, but curiosity got the better of her.

“Here I thought I was the only one up this late.” She took a seat atop a nearby crate as Cortez rolled out from underneath the shuttle. “Don’t you ever sleep, Steve?”

She recognized the forced chuckle he offered in response. How many times had she done the same? Hell, how many times had she done that today? His eyes looked tired and red; it was all awfully familiar. “You want to talk?”

He visibly tensed at the question, and Shepard knew exactly what that meant. _Yes, I’d very much like to talk to somebody, but the person I talk to about these things is gone._ She knew Steve had lost someone close to him, but they’d never spoken about it before. Come to think of it, they’d never really discussed anything outside the scope of the job.

“I don’t know if that’s really a good idea, Commander. It’s late, and you don’t want to hear about my issues.”

“Try me, Cortez. I might know how you feel better than most people.”

He nodded. “That’s right. You just lost…” His voice trailed off, as if realizing he’d said something he shouldn’t have.

“Thane.” His name was hoarse on her lips, but it felt good to say aloud. She hadn’t done that in so long; it was good to know it was possible to say without completely falling apart.

He nodded, but offered nothing in return. “Nobody talks about him,” she said at last. The bitterness  that came with the confession caught her by surprise, and she swallowed an uneasy lump in her throat. “They knew him, but they go on like nothing happened. Sometimes it feels like Thane never existed for anyone else but me.”

Cortez wiped the grease from his hands and joined her on an adjoining crate. “I don’t think it’s intentional, Commander. It’s been my experience that when people don’t know what to say or don’t want to offend, they say nothing instead. And now with everything we’re facing, with all that pressure on you, maybe they’re afraid to say something that might hurt you more.”

Maybe. But if their silence was meant to spare her feelings, it had failed miserably. Shepard shrugged. “You sure you don’t want to talk?”

Cortez shook his head. “Someday. Just not today.”

“Of course.” Shepard nodded and let him find solace in his work. There was no faulting him for not being ready. God knows it was hard enough for her to even say Thane’s name. But even that small bit had helped a little. Maybe with time the loss would heal. It would never disappear — and part of her was thankful for that — but an ache was easier to bear than a gaping wound.

“Does it get any better, Steve?”

A forced smile to match the chuckle from earlier. "I...I'll have to get back to you on that one, Commander."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always felt like a Shepard that romanced Thane would really bond with Cortez, that they could be a nice support system for each other. (Also, this felt like a good way to express frustration over the fact that no one ever mentions Thane's death in-game.)


	21. A Life Remembered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a rewrite of Thane's memorial service, because I feel like Shepard would have a little more to say.

They came. Every one of them.

The apartment was full of people who had gathered to pay their respects to Thane, but where Shepard had expected only a handful of strangers, familiar faces stared back everywhere she looked. She was certain Cortez was behind that, and when he finally appeared in the back of the crowd, he nodded. Someday she hoped to repay the kindness. The sight of her friends put strength in her bones, made her able to stand when all she wanted to do was curl up in bed and wait for the sea to take her.

They spoke, one after another, about how great Thane was. How unexpected in his kindness, fierce in his faith, zealous in his desire to set the galaxy right. To them he’d been a partner, a brother, a friend. Cortez had been right all along. They cared. Of course they cared. She suddenly felt a fool for believing otherwise.

When it was her turn to speak, time slowed, blurred beyond recognition. It was the hardest thing she ever had to do. Fight a dozen mercs? Done. A hundred husks? Easy. But this… This was hard. The words were heavy in her mouth, and not a one of them felt right.

“Thane was anything but ordinary, as most of you know. He lived his life like a ghost. Solitary, hidden away, ephemeral. But we were lucky. For us, he stepped away from the shadows and walked beside us. You called him a brother and a friend. And he was. I called him something else.”

 _My love. My...everything._ When distilled to mere syllables, it all sounded so trite. How do you speak of someone you loved? How do you convey the affection that wells in the simple moments — hair brushed gently behind an ear, a whisper in the dark, fingers entwining across a table? Little moments. That’s what she and Thane had. Explaining something so personal was damn near impossible. They could never have the memories, never have more than her words. And words could never be enough.

“I don’t know that I could ever explain what Thane was to me, what we were to each other. I loved him, but it was more than that. We met during an uneasy time in both of our lives, and I think we did our best to save each other. Were he here now, he could recall some poignant moment with flawless clarity. But he isn’t here,” she said, her voice briefly dropping to a whisper. “He wouldn’t want any of us to dwell on that though. What Thane would want is for us to push on, to keep going, keep fighting. That’s what he did, until the very end.”

Breaking. The cracks in her voice began to show, but she continued on. To honor Thane. To honor his memory. Shepard blinked back tears and drew in a calming breath. Words alone would fall short, but the sentiment behind them was plain enough.

“We should remember the way he lived those last months of his life and strive to be so brave. He risked it all to save humanity from the Collectors when he could have hidden away on some dry planet to try and gain a few more precious weeks of life. He left the safety of his hospital bed behind to help me, and to protect someone he'd never even met. Thane stood shoulder to shoulder with heroes, never counting himself one of them. But he was. No matter what came before, no matter the faults, he was. It’s what he’ll always be to me.”

Shepard took her seat as Kolyat rose to speak, and a couple more people offered their respects when he had finished. So many kind remembrances. Thane wouldn't have known how to take that at all.

_“When I am gone, they will remember nothing except that I was the master assassin.”_

He'd said it with such sadness and regret the day they met. For so long he believed his only legacy was death. Shepard felt herself smile despite the tears.

He was wrong.


	22. Between Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaidan worries about Shepard's state of mind as they near the end of the mission, and he takes her to lunch in an effort to reach out to his former love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chronology note: This is the most recent chapter.

Shepard sat across from Kaidan at the little outdoor cafe on the Presidium, but she wasn’t there. Not really. She hadn’t been there for months. Not since the attack on the Citadel. Not since the assassin’s death. He rarely saw her outside of the daily briefings, and then it was only as she finished up an early morning workout or as she dashed through the mess to grab a meal that she’d eat in her cabin alone. They hadn’t had a real conversation since he’d rejoined the Normandy. It seemed that the mission was all she had, all she wanted these days.

This wasn’t the Shepard he’d fallen in love with all those years ago. That luminous woman full of life and vibrancy was gone. Everything about her had become unyielding in the aftermath of the Citadel attack. Even physically she had changed, operating like a machine, pale skin stretched over hard muscle and bone beneath baggy T-shirts and pants. The warmth of her dark eyes had died with her lover; not even the embers remained now.

But somehow he’d gotten her to meet him for lunch on the Presidium. Somehow. For all he knew, she hadn’t really been listening at all when he’d asked.

He watched as she pretended to study the menu. Even now, she was somewhere else. Her eyes seemed to look through the menu, through the table, and he was certain she hadn’t read a word. Sure enough, when the waiter came to take their order, she simply frowned and said, “I’ll have the same.”

Was there any part of her still alive in there? Or had the assassin taken her soul along with her heart? He rubbed his temples. No, that wasn’t fair. He actually liked the assass— no, _Thane_ , he corrected himself. He actually liked Thane well enough. It had bothered him once that she’d chosen him, but Kaidan knew he could only blame himself for that. He’d pushed her away with both hands when she was reaching out for someone to keep her steady. And Thane had done that. He’d been the one to listen to her fears and insecurities, the one that held her when the nightmares came, when she stood on the brink of the abyss and faced death head on. Thane had been the one that helped make her whole again. But it was hard to look at Shepard this way, to see the pain that never left her face, eyes always just barely concealing tears, and be thankful for it.

Garrus warned him against bringing it up. “Leave it alone, Kaidan,” he’d drawled. “Everyone mourns in their own way. Shepard’s got a lot to handle, and — hard as this is to hear — she loved Krios. Give her space and a little bit of time, and she’ll bounce back. She always does.”

He had given her space. That was the very reason he’d avoided Thane’s memorial. Showing up felt wrong, like an intrusion on something he didn’t deserve to be privy to, and he hadn’t known the drell as well as the others had anyway. A few cordial hospital conversations hadn’t made them friends. At the end of the day, they were acquaintances who happened to love the same woman.

Damn, he did love her. It had been years since he’d admitted it to himself, but yes, he did still love Shepard. Had he ever stopped? Even when she’d left with Cerberus, she was all he could think about. That was why it was so hard to see her this way. Too much history, and not enough time had passed to bury it.

“Shepard,” he finally managed to say. It wasn’t until he covered her hand with his that she looked up at him, and then it was only to pull her hand away and sweep a bit of dark hair behind her ears. “How are you, really?”

“Kaidan, I’m … fine.” There were a million things left unsaid in that pause. The way her gaze flickered away, just for the briefest of moments, told him she was lying. She wasn’t fine. Anyone could see that. But the mask refused to come off for anyone. Even him. Maybe especially him.

“Well... Listen, I’m glad you came today. I wasn’t sure you would.”

The little lines on her forehead crinkled. “Why’s that?”

She really didn’t know? “You’ve been … preoccupied lately. A lot on our plates. More on yours than anyone else’s. It’s been hard to catch you on a break.”

“We have a job to do, Kaidan, the most important job we’ll ever do. It’s not just humanity counting on us, it’s everyone. I have to see this through to the end.” She stopped herself and sighed, but a part of him was relieved to hear the passion return to her voice. “But I always have time for you. For all of the crew.”

“I know. It’s just that you’re one of my best friends, and I don’t have a lot. Friends, I mean. And after everything that’s happened between us over the past few years, I guess I just wanted to make sure we’re good. You know?”

Her eyes finally found him, and she offered a smile. It was weary, wavering, but he’d take it. “We’ve been through a lot together. Ash’s death. Saren. You were with me from the start, Kaidan. I could never just dismiss that.”

“Like I did,” he said quietly.

She patted him on the arm, her eyes just slightly less vacant than they had been. “We’re good now. Really. You and I are in this thing till the end. You’re going to make it, Kaidan. Have I steered you wrong yet?”

“It’s just…” _The end_. Why did he think that meant something different for her? It was a stupid thought, but still it nagged at him. What if throwing herself into her work wasn’t just about saving the galaxy from the Reapers? What if she had an entirely different end in mind? “Tell me you’ll still be around when this is done.”

Shepard bit her lip and shifted her gaze before slipping on her mask and giving him the answer he wanted to hear. She was so good at that these days, and God help him, he wanted so badly to believe her. “I can’t promise any of us will still be around when this is done, Kaidan. But you know I’ll give everything I have to make sure that happens." She grinned, more genuine than before. "Besides, you know what happened the last time I died.”

Hell happened. Two years of mourning for the only woman he’d ever loved. Two years of agony followed by more regret and confusion than he ever thought possible. But Kaidan smiled as if he believed her lie. Hell, maybe he did believe it. But a part of him feared that Shepard didn’t see this as anything but another suicide mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s important to note that this is from Kaidan’s perspective. It’s how he’s seeing Shepard, accurate or not. I debated it a bit because I was afraid it would come off like she’s completely fallen apart in the wake of Thane’s death, and that’s simply not the case. She’s hurting, yes, but she’s not abandoned the mission to wallow in grief. Kaidan doesn’t see that. He didn’t attend the memorial service, so he didn’t hear her speech about pushing ahead, not giving up, etc. He only sees that the woman he still cares for is hurting, and that leaves him with a skewed view of things.


	23. An End, Once and for All

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've reached the end! Thank you to everyone who read and left a kudos or (especially) a comment. Your kind words helped keep me motivated when I just wasn't, and because of that I ended up writing a whole lot more than I thought I would!

Shepard wobbled ahead, barely able to put one foot in front of the other as she approached the ramp to the power conduit. Logic told her it was only illusion, but the incline seemed to wind on and on, ever upward in endless ascent toward the stars. It was a fine place to die, starlight above and earth below. At any other moment such morbid thought might have made her pause to reflect on the life she’d lived, the things she never got to do, never got to say. The fact that she was too broken to consider death anything but a relief told her the time really had come.

With a stagger that nearly damned her balance, Shepard felt the ramp level out beneath her feet. She chanced to raise her head and look at the target, blinking away tears and blood and sweat that blurred her steadily dimming field of vision. So close. The end lie twenty feet ahead. She needed only to find the ability to aim and squeeze the trigger a few more times.

Only. They may as well have needed her to light the damn thing on fire with her mind.

It was too much. She hit the floor on her hands and knees with a crack that echoed through the chamber, but neither sound nor pain registered. “I can’t!” she sputtered.

She could hardly see, could barely pull herself up on shaky legs to do more than stumble ahead in hopes of making it where she needed to be. But she heard his voice somewhere to in the growing darkness, and it was like a beacon for her soul, a balm for the chill spreading in her bones.

_“I love you. If all else whispers back into the tide, know this for fact.”_

The memory of Thane’s last message became the sight she no longer had, and she clung to his words as if they were life itself, each one giving her just enough strength to push forward.

“I’ll be home soon,” she murmured.

There was no one there to witness her delirium, to watch her talking to a ghost. Even if there had been it wouldn’t have mattered. She saw his face — head bowed in prayer, prayer for her safe guidance across the sea and back to him — and it was all she needed to finish the task.

_“By grace given me by the Goddess Arashu, I bid her divine protection to you, my warrior-angel, my Siha, to succeed in your destiny.”_

Her shattered bones ground together and gaping wounds gave up more blood with every movement, but the soft hum of his voice somehow dulled the pain in those final moments. Or perhaps her mind was being especially kind in blocking it all out. Her steps were uneven, shuffling, but it didn’t matter. She’d have crawled on her hands and knees if need be. Anything to get it done. Anything to see the end.

_“To light your path through the coming darkness. To give you hope, when all seems lost.”_

One trembling shot. Two. She burned up the thermal clip, each shot steadier than the last, legs somehow carrying her closer, until a sanguine flash engulfed the entire platform. No longer able to see, she felt the architecture give way, felt herself falling.

_“I will await you across the sea.”_

No, not falling. Floating, bobbing, weightless among the lapping waves. The tide had come to carry her home.


End file.
